


Luxury

by 391780 (goblinparty)



Series: Cold Wind [10]
Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Hot Tub Sex, M/M, slightly fluffy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2212116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goblinparty/pseuds/391780
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tell you what- I'll go upstairs and make dinner. I've got just enough stuff that I can make decent spaghetti. You grab a beer and go kill aliens on the xbox. Sound like a good time?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Luxury

Numbers sat on the faded motel carpet, surrounded by photos, diagrams, blueprints, and dossiers spread out in front of him. He'd gone over the file a million times, as per usual, but couldn't resist going over it once more, just to be sure.

 _File says house should be empty. We grab the guy, get him talking about the outfit starting up in Madison, kill him discreetly, grab a small brown package from his safe and deliver it asap, no stopping for the night. Boss says the last two parts are especially critical._ Numbers nursed his beer. On one hand he was honored Fargo himself entrusted him and Wrench with something so incredibly valuable to him, on the other, he was not looking forward to the 6 hour nonstop drive from Williston back to Fargo.

 _What's the package?_ Wrench was sitting on the cheap wooden dresser, cocking his head quizzically. He always reminded Numbers' of his mom's terrier when he did that.

_No clue. Aussie said it was incredibly important to the big man himself. He sort of hinted it was maybe blackmail._

_Fucking Aussie talks too much._

_You have **no** idea. _ Numbers flipped through the papers again, pulling out a photo of the mark's home.

The next day they arrived at the mark's house. It was a big white home on the outside of town, with a wraparound porch and a hot tub off the covered back patio. Numbers had always wanted a house exactly like this, and hated the guy already. He silently wondered if he'd be able to get away with soaking in the hot tub before rushing back to Fargo before deciding it probably wasn't worth the risk of incurring the boss's wrath. When Fargo said 'as soon as possible', he meant it with a deadly seriousness.

They saw a small barn behind the large house, and went inside to make sure no one was hiding out there. They had no sooner pushed open the large, creaking doors when they were greeted by the sight of a corpse hanging from a noose tied to the rafters. A handwritten sign with the words 'YOU LOSE' was tied around his neck. Wrench squinted in the dim light, tapping Numbers' arm.

_I think that's our guy._

Numbers pulled out a keychain flashlight and shone it on the dead man's face. Yeah, that was the guy. Numbers sighed heavily, rubbing his temples and hoping he'd still get paid for going all the way out there.

_I better check in, let them know what's going on._

_I'll walk around outside the house, make sure it's really empty._

_Good call._

Numbers fished the phone from his pocket, and dialed the contact labeled 'Antipodean Fuckface'.

“What, beardo?”

“We're at the location. Mark is dead already. Hung himself, left a note saying 'you lose'.”

“Well fuck me.”

“Pass. We can't get anything about Madison, so we're gonna find the safe, grab the parcel, and head back.”

“Hang on a second.” Numbers heard the Aussie speaking away from his phone, a low, deep voice responding to his higher pitched one. “Boss says suicide complicates things. Stay put, he's decided he wants to pick the package up himself. Says to guard it for the next few days til he can get away from business here. You're not to leave the property. Hope the bloke's got a full fridge, ladies.”

“Hang on- complicates things? He's dead. He did our job for us. We can finish this as if we did it ourselves.”

The Aussie sighed melodramatically. “It means there's other forces at play here. Other parties were after him. Maybe lots. He didn't know we were coming, but he was expecting someone to come make him suffer and decided to take the easy way out. Hence you two sticking 'round to keep an eye on things. Gotta know who else shows up to party with our dearly departed pal.”

“And the Boss wants to pick it up _himself_?”

“Did I stutter, missy?”

“All right, OK. We'll be here.”

“Damn right you will.” The Aussie hung up abruptly. Good Christ did Numbers hate that prick.

_So what now?_

_Boss is coming here himself to pick up the package. We're supposed to watch over it until it arrives._

_Himself? Seriously?_ Wrench's eyes opened wide in surprise.

_Seriously. Guess the Aussie's idle chatter is more gospel than gossip._

_Fucking hell, I wonder what the guy had on him._

_Considering what I **do** know about Fargo, I don't think I want to know about the shit he's actually bothering to hide. _ Numbers stroked his chin in thought.

_When will he be here?_

_In a few days. Looks like we'll be here a little while. See anyone?_

_Nah. Totally empty. Only one set of car keys on the hook by the door, and considering his car is still here, I think it's safe to say we're alone._

_Fantastic. Let's get to the house and see what we can do in terms of food. I'm starving._

The two men tromped up the back steps and pushed open the unlocked door. They stepped into a large, professional looking kitchen with steel appliances and granite counters. Brand new pots and pans hung from ceiling mounted racks, and an overlarge stainless steel fridge hummed in the silent house. The men removed their boots and pulled off their jackets, taking in every detail of the beautiful home. Numbers had some wealthy friends growing up, but Wrench had never seen anything like it. He meandered through the house, eyes wide at the fifty two inch flatscreen and extensive video game library. He looked to Numbers, who was unconsciously nodding his head in approval of their temporary residence. He wandered back to the kitchen, where Numbers was opening cupboards and drawers, taking a quick inventory of what food was available. Wrench decided it was best to stay out from underfoot, and ducked into the basement.

Numbers was relieved to find that their mark had plenty of non-perishable food, as well as an appealing selection of fine meats and fresh vegetables. Numbers knew how to cook, and started gathering things to make spaghetti from scratch. He had remembered Wrench mentioning how much he liked it, and grinned quietly to himself at the thought of surprising Wrench with one of his favorite foods. While Numbers scanned the enormous pantry, he felt Wrench grab his arm from behind and start pulling him away.

“What the fuck, man!” he yelled to nobody in particular. Wrench led him out of the kitchen down the stairs to the basement, where three large refrigerators stood in a line.

 _Open one._ Wrench signed excitedly. Numbers threw his partner a puzzled look, and pulled open the middle refrigerator. Inside was bottle after bottle of champagne of various labels and years, all of whom were ridiculously expensive. Numbers looked back at Wrench, who seemed beside himself in excitement.

 _The freezer in that one is filled with vodka. The other two have beer and gin. This dude must've been fucking **loaded.**_ Wrench looked excited, like an enormous child on Christmas Eve.

 _Tell you what- I'll go upstairs and make dinner. I've got just enough stuff that I can make decent spaghetti. You grab a beer and go kill aliens on the xbox. Sound like a good time?_ Wrench didn't even bother signing his response. He closed the distance between them and kissed Numbers' roughly, fingers entwining in his partner's hair. When he finally did pull away, he was grinning so widely he thought his face would break.

_You're gonna make a fantastic wife one day._

_Fuck you._ Numbers scrunched his face into an expression of faux annoyance, and grabbed a bottle of beer out of a fridge. Both men trudged upstairs, excited to continue their evening of relaxation.

Beneath the television was a flat black box, and Wrench's heart did a small flip when he saw it. He hadn't seen a Sega Genesis in years, and he frantically searched for compatible games. He finally found a small box filled with titles he hadn't seen since he was a kid. He popped in Sonic the Hedgehog 2 and tried to stifle giggles of joy by nursing his beer in between attempts at passing each level. Joy and nostalgia boiled inside of him, making him feel better than he had in a very long time. He peered into the kitchen, watching Numbers dice tomatoes and measure pasta. He had a look of serene concentration on his face, and Wrench thought he moved through the kitchen with all the grace of a dancer. It was fun seeing his partner like this, completely in his element doing something other than terrorizing and killing. It did seem to him, however, than Numbers was always very good with anything involving knives, and he wondered which of the two skills he had picked up first.

After a while, the food was ready and they sat to eat. Numbers finished first, and leaned back in his seat, watching his companion wolf down his food like a giant copper headed puppy. He grinned into his beer, bemused by how such a dangerous man could also be so adorable.

_That was excellent. Thank you. Where did you learn to cook like that?_

_A combination of my mother and a copy of Mastering the Art of French Cooking. I got roped into making dinner every weekend when I was a kid, so I got a lot of practice._

_It shows._

Numbers raised his bottle to that, smiling. In the back of his mind he knew they should be actively keeping guard, but pushed it out of his head. This was as close to a vacation as he had been on for a while, and he was determined to enjoy it. He nodded towards the hot tub outside.

_I was thinking of going out and soaking in the j-a-c-u-z-z-i after I finish the dishes. Care to join me?_

_You brought a bathing suit?_

_Nope._ Numbers gave his partner a sly smile, which was met with hearty laughter.

_You old pervert._

_You know it._ Numbers waggled his eyebrows, eliciting more laughter from his partner. He couldn't help but wonder if this is what it would be like to live with Wrench. Everything felt so comfortable around him, he didn't feel the need to conceal anything or put up pretense. It was as if they had known each other their whole lives, even though in reality it was only... oh god. Numbers eyes grew wide. How could he have forgotten? He stood up quickly and rushed down to the basement, leaving Wrench confused in his seat. Numbers popped back into view, holding a bottle of insanely expensive champagne and grinning sheepishly. He popped it open, hooting at the loud sound and the projectile cork. He flashed a big toothy grin at Wrench as he poured the champagne into a couple of crystal glasses. He set one in front of his partner.

_Happy anniversary._

_Oh my God. I forgot! I'm sorry!_

_Don't think twice about it, I almost forgot myself._ Numbers sat himself on Wrench's knee, and kissed him gently on the cheek. Wrench kissed back hungrily, sucking and biting Numbers' lip, hands frantically roaming over his partner's body. Numbers pulled back, laughing, and stood up. He strolled towards the back door, casually removing his clothes and littering them behind him as he walked. He was down to his socks and boxers when he reached the door, and he turned and crooked his finger at Wrench before stepping out into the cold night. Wrench got up with a start, shedding clothes as quickly as he could, tripping over his jeans. He grabbed the two champagne flutes and followed Numbers outside, and saw him relaxing in the hot tub, head leaned back and eyes closed. He only cracked an eye open when Wrench settled into the hot water next to him, taking his glass of champagne from him and setting it on the table next to them.

Numbers straddled his partner, resuming the kiss he had broken off. Hot water swirled around them, contrasting deliciously with the frigid night air. Wrench reached behind the man on top of him, kneading his ass firmly with his large hands. Numbers gasped and moaned into his mouth, sending vibrations into his teeth. Taking his cue, Wrench slid a hand from Numbers' ass and began stroking his cock, which jumped to life immediately. Numbers reached down to return the favor, and relished in the moan his touch elicited. He stroked Wrench's thick cock, and brought it up against his own, rutting against him with complete abandon, creating large waves in the jacuzzi. Wrench squirmed beneath him, breaking off the kiss to lean his head back and moan. Strong fingers traced Numbers mouth, and he began sucking on them, swirling his tongue around and between them, nipping lightly on the tips. Wrench bucked his hips, sloshing water over the edges of the tub. Waves crashed against their naked bodies, but both men's minds were entirely clouded by lust and they didn't notice at all. They rocked together, grabbing and scratching frantically, trying to get hold of each other. They came together, exploding inwardly, burning like a wildfire. Numbers collapsed on top of Wrench, panting against his wet chest, feeling damp strong arms coil around him and hold him tight. After a few moments, Wrench pushed him off gently.

_I love you._

_Yeah, idiot, I know._

Wrench punched him on the shoulder.

_Say it back, asshole._

_Fine. I love you. Now let's get out of this cum filled hot tub and take a shower._

_Are we filling that with cum too?_

_You wish._ Numbers grabbed his drink, which had miraculously not fallen off the table, throwing it back. Both men raced back inside, dripping water throughout the house as they searched for the bathroom. Numbers managed to find the linen closet first, and chucked a large fluffy towel at Wrench, who grinned appreciatively and threw it over his shoulder. They eventually found the bathroom, which housed a massive shower big enough for the two of them. Wrench pulled Numbers into the stall with a gentle smile on his face, and gently scrubbed his back and massaged shampoo in his hair, despite Number's halfhearted attempts at getting him to stop.

_Stop fussing! I can do this myself!_

_I'm not doing it because I think you can't, I'm doing it because I like taking care of you._ Wrench poked the end of his boyfriend's nose with his finger.

 _Happy Anniversary, you big sappy baby._   

_Happy Anniversary, you old grumpy asshole._

He leaned down and kissed Numbers' bearded cheek. When they stepped out of the steaming shower, they wrapped themselves in the soft, fluffy towels they had found and wandered into the bedroom. The sight of the california king sized bed with deep purple silk sheets was a welcome one to the exhausted men, and they happily flopped onto the mattress and turned on the large flat screen, an old black and white movie flickering to life. Wrench held up a single finger and left the room quickly. Number sat alone, thinking about how a potentially bloody day had essentially turned itself into a luxurious vacation. He chuckled. He didn't even care if they got paid for this job or not, it was well worth the time and gas just for a few days in the lavish home. Wrench reappeared, two beers in his hands. He passed a frigid bottle to Numbers, who patted the space on the mattress next to him. Wrench lumbered into bed, and wrapped his arm around Numbers' shoulder. Numbers picked up the remote from the nightstand and flipped on captions, earning him a nod of thanks from the larger man next to him.

After the film ended, Numbers looked over at Wrench, who was the physical embodiment of relaxation. His head was leaned back, his eyes were closed, and he had an empty beer wrapped in his fingers and a faint smile on his face. Numbers secretly worried that all of this was somehow an elaborate trap, that either Fargo or someone else had decided to take them out by enticing them to drop their guard in this amazing house. Wrench cracked an eye open, gently squeezing Numbers' shoulder and giving him a boyish grin. Numbers smiled back, and decided that if it **was** a trap, that he was OK with it. There were certainly worse ways he could spend his last days.

 

 


End file.
